


Affection

by BloodEnvy



Series: Kinds of Love [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post Civil War, Pure and simple, You're an Avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEnvy/pseuds/BloodEnvy
Summary: You and Tony have grown close while living at the Avengers facility in New York, and when Peter Parker asks for your help on a term paper, Tony watches the two of you together, and comes to a heart-warming decision you never saw coming.





	Affection

**Author's Note:**

> You're a member of the Avengers, with the alias Barricade. You have the ability to generate psychic force fields (similar to Sue Storm or Violet Parr). You're also a student at NYU.

“Anything interesting?”

You looked up from your tablet, smiling over the rim of your coffee mug at the man on the other side of the kitchen island. Closing the news app, you shook your head. “Nothing important. Although, apparently you and the new _Victoria’s Secret_ model are pregnant. Congratulations.”

“Incredible.” Tony replied.

“Tell me about it,” you said dryly. “You’ve never even met the woman.”

“It’s a modern miracle.”

“Call it what you want, I’m not babysitting.”

Tony laughed and picked at the plate you were sharing. FRIDAY was already set up to send you any links to reports about the Avengers that had gone AWOL after Tony and Steve’s… disagreement in Siberia, but you still found yourself regularly checking for mentions of renegade superheroes. So far, aside from some extremely outlandish articles in a couple of tabloids – including one that claimed Nat could actually turn _into_ a spider – you’d found nothing. When the Black Widow wanted to avoid detection, she definitely knew how. And clearly, she was showing the others some of the same tricks.

If Clint was speaking to you, you would probably have more to go on. He wasn’t mad at you, per se, and was always happy to receive the updates on Rhodey’s progress you sent out, but your insistence in standing by Tony and signing the Accords had left a sour note in your friendship. He took a little longer to reply to you than he had used to. Despite that, you’d sent a ‘happy birthday’ message to Laura to him, and he’d actually sent a photo back of the family crowded together on the couch as she’d unwrapped presents. You’d printed it out and pinned it to the message board in your room.

Still, until you actually had information worth sharing, you kept your research to yourself. You weren’t sure if Tony would want to track them down, even if you could find them.

Ignorant of your musings, Tony grinned winningly at you and popped a grape into his mouth. You were perched on a stool in the kitchen of the Avengers headquarters, dressed in a pair of sleep-shorts and one of Tony’s button downs. He leaned against the counter behind him, watching you with affectionate eyes.

“You got plans for the day?”

You, like Tony, had moved into the facility full-time shortly after the all-Avengers smack down at the airport, giving up your admittedly tiny dorm room at N.Y.U. with the intent to help him rebuild the team and as support for Rhodey during his physical therapy. With Vision and Happy keeping to themselves for the most part, you and Tony had been left to your own devices, and you’d taken it upon yourself to help him recover from the revelation about Bucky’s role in his parents’ death.

You’d bonded over classic rock and bad television, and when late-night drinks had ended with you in his bed, it had almost seemed like a natural progression of your friendship. And so, it had continued. Neither of you had attempted to label whatever you had between you and it was far from being public – what with you still being in your mid-twenties and already slightly uncomfortable with the level of celebrity afforded to you by your superhero-status – aside from a few mentions in gossip rags. But while you had your own room and your own bed, you spent most of your nights in his.

“No, but you do,” you teased, biting into a strawberry. “Don’t you have a meeting with some big wig today?”

“A moderately sized toupee, actually.” He replied, sighing. “How do you even know that?”

“Some us actually make the effort to _listen_ to FRIDAY when she gives you your schedule of a morning.”

He made a dramatic show of leaning forward over the island bench between you, elbows on the countertop and his chin in his hands. “Play hooky with me.”

“Technically, you’d be the only one playing hooky,” you pointed out. When his gaze turned playfully imploring, you bit your lip to smother a smile. “That wasn’t a ‘yes’, Tony.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’, either.” He said, smirking. He straightened, grabbing your free hand and moving around to your side of the counter. He pulled you out of your seat and towards him, and you half-yelped, half-laughed as you tried to avoid the liquid sloshing out of the mug still in your hand. “Tony! Tony, hot coffee!”

“I’ll buy you another one,” he joked impatiently, letting you set it down before pulling your body to his and wrapping his arms around your waist. Your hands came to rest instinctively on his chest, so you wiped coffee on his shirt. “Ugh, you’re a mess.”

“Respect the caffeine and I wouldn’t be.”

“Dear God, you sound like Clint, he muttered. His expression warmed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You hummed lightly at the feel of his lips, and he ducked his head to rest his forehead against yours. His nosed bumped against your own gently, his tone playfully whining. “C’mon… spend the day with me.”

You wet your lips, eyes on his warm, brown ones. His hand slipped down to squeeze your ass through the thin cotton of your shorts. He tugged the material up just enough that his fingertips grazed the naked curve of your backside, and you smacked his hand away, rolling your eyes. “What does it sa about you that you are almost twice the age of the men I go to school with, and yet you are _just_ as immature?”

He kissed you, smiling. “What does it say about you that you like it?”

Your laughter abated as his lips met yours again, and your hands slid up over his chest to run fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He tugged you closer, eagerly, his hand tightening its hold on your ass. You gasped slightly, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against your own.

“Mr. Stark, you have a phone call.” FRIDAY announced coolly from overhead.

Tony groaned, breaking away reluctantly. Still, he pressed a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before speaking. “Can you take a message?”

“It’s Peter Parker, Mr. Stark.”

Tony sighed, dropping his head against your shoulder, his warm hands sliding around to rest on your hips. His next words were muffled, his lips pressed against your shirt. “So, is that a ‘no’ on the message?”

“Tony!” you admonished, pushing him away gently. He didn’t release his hold on you, but he pouted all the same. “Put it on speaker, please, FRIDAY.”

“Yes, Ms. L/N.”

“Hi, Mr. Stark?” Uncertainty laced Peter’s tone, and Tony leaned back against the kitchen island, pulling you with him and making him stumble. You smacked his chest, but aside from his smirk, he ignored you.

“Underoos! Calling a little early, aren’t you?”

“It’s ten-thirty, Tone.” You told him, reaching past him for another strawberry. You shook your head in amusement when Tony opened his mouth expectantly, so you offered it to him. His lips brushed your fingers as he bit into it.

“Ah.”

“Oh, hi, Barricade! Hey…”

“Just Y/N is fine, Peter.” You said warmly. You’d had about as much warning about Spider Man entering the standoff as Steve’s team had had, and despite your reputation as an only occasional Avenger, Peter has been stoked to meet someone with the natural-born ability to generate force fields out of telekinetic energy.

“Okay. Y/N. Sorry.”

“So, kid.” Tony said, a little louder than necessary. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I’ve got a study period,” Peter explained.

“What can I do for you today?”

“I, uh, actually wanted to ask a favor…”

“You know me, kid,” Tony said grandly, and you scoffed. He smacked a kiss against your temple. “Always willing to lend a hand.”

“Actually,” Peter said awkwardly, “I was wondering if Y/N could help me out…”

You burst into laughter, clapping a hand over Tony’s mouth before he could speak again. “FRIDAY, send this call to my cell, please.”

“Of course, Ms. L/N.”

You beat Tony to the charger on the other side of the kitchen, unplugging your phone and holding it to your ear. “Hey, Pete. What’s up?”

You covered Tony’s mouth again when he tried to comment, and he took hold of your hand, devilish smile on his lips. He pressed a kiss slowly to the palm of it, eyes fixed on your own. You shook your head at him, still listening to Peter, and he stepped towards you, placing your hand on his shoulder and taking hold of your hips again.

“Yeah, of course I can. I’d love to,” you told the teen superhero, pointedly trying to ignore Tony as he pressed teasing kisses along the side of your throat. Your fist bunched in the collar of his shirt as he slung his hips against yours, tugging your shirt aside softly to reveal your collarbone. “It’s really not a problem, Peter.”

Your breath caught as his teeth grazed where your neck met your collarbone; he bit down lightly before swiping his tongue against your skin. You pushed him away and readjusted your shirt, glaring. He snickered, moving towards you again, and you summoned enough energy to project a dinner-plate sized force field against his chest, holding him in place a few inches from your outstretched hand. You shifted it with him every time he tried to step around it, and he soon gave up, fixing you with a tired expression until you hung up the phone.

“I’ll see you then, Peter. Bye.”

“So, what did the world’s worst mentee want?” Tony asked. He gestured down at the bluish disk shining in front of his chest. “Can you…?”

You took your time plugging your phone back in and stepping past him to pick up your coffee. You turned to him with a smirk, leaning your hip against the counter’s edge. “Help with a term paper.”

“From you?”

“Watch it buddy,” you warned him, but you raised your hand, twisting your wrist and closing your fist. The field dissolved. “Apparently someone mentioned I’m about to graduate with a minor in Dramatic Literature?”

Tony smiled, a touch of pride in the curve of his lips. “I may have slipped it into conversation once or twice.”

“My minor, Tony?”

He shrugged. “What, I can’t be proud of my girl?”

“For a billionaire you are such a dorky boyfriend.” You joked, faltering when Tony looked up at you. Did you just say the ‘b’ word? You pressed on hurriedly, “Peter needs help with an English paper on the relationship between magic and women in Shakespearean theatre. I told him to come ‘round this afternoon after school.”

“Did you now?” Tony, to his credit, didn’t mention your little slip.

“Yup. Looks like my degree is coming in handy already.” You said proudly.

“Ah, yes. The mighty Avenger Barricade: teaching the next generation of superheroes a bunch of crap they’ll never need to know again.” He taunted affectionately, slipping an arm around you again and pressing his lips to your temple. His hand slid up under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist.

“Yeah?” You replied snidely. “I’ll remember that next time you want to brainstorm snarky comments to make at Thor.”

He gasped, mock-offended, hand to his chest. “How dare you.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, putting your now-empty coffee mug on the counter.

“So…” Tony said, his hand moving to spread against your lower back as he stepped in front of you. “Peter isn’t coming until later, right?”

“I just said that, Tony.”

“So, your morning is still completely free…”

“Tony, you have that meeting.” You reminded him, even as you parted your legs. He slid his knee between them, pushing it against you, and your hands moved to grip his biceps. His lips found yours, and he kissed you, teasingly.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Cancel that meeting.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

***

Tony tossed a ball into the air and caught it again as he strolled into the main rec room of the facility. You’d ordered him to stay out of the way while you helped Peter after he’d made a snarky comment when the boy had arrived, so of course, he’d given you an hour before deciding he was bored enough to interrupt.

“Right, so what plays are you focusing on?”

He rounded the corner to the sound of your voice, and he smiled. Your profile was to him; you were curled up on the couch with a pile of the Bard’s works stacked beside you and your own study notes projected by Friday in front of you. You’d twisted most of your hair around a pen and pushed it through the base, the way you often did when you were studying, but you still had to brush a strand behind your ear as you leaned forward to consult Peter’s laptop screen.

“ _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_?” Peter replied, sitting on the floor in front of you, his back against the couch.

“ _Midsummer_ is good,” you replied. “Especially if you focus on Titania as both an instigator and a victim. Have you read _Macbeth_?”

“No, but I’ve seen some of the movie. The one that came out last year?”

You handed him your copy. “Here. The witches are what you should focus on.”

“Right. Thanks so much, Y/N.”

“Not a problem, Peter.” You told him warmly, ruffling his hair. “I got a point to prove here.”

Tony held back a chuckle, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and folding his arms over his chest as he watched the two of you. You were so at home with Peter, just like you were with him. Relaxed, comfortable, joking. The soft smile on your lips sent warmth through every part of Tony.

“A point?”

You waved a hand. “Just a joke with Tony.”

“I think it’s nice that you and Mr. Stark are dating,” Peter said, almost shyly. Tony raised a brow. “He’s always happier around when he’s with you.”

Tony arched an eyebrow, his eyes fixating on you as a blush rose in your cheeks. Your expression was almost wistful. “We’re not exactly… Really?”

“I mean, yeah.” Peter shrugged. “Not exactly what?”

_Dating._

You cleared your throat, embarrassed, and Tony’s smile broadened. “FRIDAY is already emailing you most of my notes on these plays, and I’ll go over my notes on themes tonight and send them over. I meant to do it today, but I, uh…” you cleared your throat again, blush deepening. “I got sidetracked. You might need me to decipher some of them for you, but they’re all referenced, and you can call me anytime to ask about them.”

“Nothing after 9pm.” Tony said loudly, strolling over to the couch and dropping the ball next to you. “She’s mine after nine.”

He bent over the back of the couch behind you and kissed your cheek.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.”

“Hey, again, kid.”

“Since when is that a rule?” you asked, twisting in your seat to face him.

Tony shrugged, completely nonchalant, still leaning over the back of the couch. “Since I decided I’m going to marry you one day.”

“I—” you blanched, taken-aback. You spared a glance at Peter, who was smiling at the two of you with a kind of wonder, like Tony had just announced he was taking you both to the Bahamas. “Since you what?”

“Don’t get too excited, this isn’t a proposal,” Tony assured you, still speaking like you’d asked him the time. He sniffed slightly. “But yeah, I’ve decided.”

Despite the carefree lilt to his voice, Tony’s eyes were wide, searching. Almost imploring. He’d just offered up his heart to you, the truth of what he was feeling, and you didn’t need the hammering of your own heart in your chest to tell you that. The hopeful smile on his lips faltered incrementally at your silence. You grabbed hold of the front of his shirt and pulled him forward, your other hand cupping his cheek as your lips found his.

The kiss was yearning and wonderful, teetering on the edge of being rough as your teeth grazed his bottom lip. Tony met you eagerly, and you could feel his smile against your lips. Your body was twisted awkwardly to meet him, but you ignored that, your fingers sliding into his hair. You didn’t break apart until you heard Peter clear his throat, more amused than embarrassed. He still looked like Christmas had come early.

You could feel your cheeks burning, and flustered, you tore your eyes away from Tony’s. “Right, um… Shakespeare!”

Tony laughed, and Peter covered a chuckle. Tony’s hands gripped your shoulders lightly; he gave them a gentle, affectionate squeeze as he kissed the top of your head. You waved a hand at him, still trying to cover your surprise and embarrassment. “We’re working here, man.”

Tony snickered, stepping away with his hands raised. He spoke to Peter in a stage whisper. “This is going to be so much fun. She’s going to be jumpy forever now, expecting a ring in everything I give her.”

You threw a worn copy of _The Merchant of Venice_ at him as Peter laughed. He caught it and gave you a wink before heading for the door. “FRIDAY, start contacting jewelers, I want to see their portfolios.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”


End file.
